


The Bludgeonings Of Chance

by Vesania94



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Cullen Has Issues, Dark Cullen, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, So much angst, rejected bits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesania94/pseuds/Vesania94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you love a character, you make them suffer.</p><p>This is the angst that got cut, the bits that didn’t fit, and random ideas that never made it into the stories you see here. These do not fit in anywhere within these universes (being the main universe of the Masters Of Our Fate series, and the AU for Shatter the Sun) and have been largely abandoned after they were written, now fleshed out for all of your angst-munching desires.</p><p>All shorts are marked with their respective story, and the summary will tell you where it is.</p><p>This is literally a sack of pain, so open at your own risk</p><p>CoMS= Captain Of My Soul<br/>BWT= Beyond This Place of Wrath and Tears<br/>US= My Unconquerable Soul<br/>STS= Shatter The Sun<br/>LWW= The Legend Of The White Wolf</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bludgeonings Of Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group’s journey back to Skyhold from Halamshiral was originally far more angst ridden, but got cut for favor of alternate angst.
> 
> Grace and Cullen are taking first watch at their camp. They are sitting around the fire chatting before this scene takes place.

Grace stared quietly into the dying fire, letting a faint trickle of mana send the flames licking at the wood again. Cullen chuckled slightly.

“You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“Oh really?” Grace laughed, sending another flicker of power towards the fire, shaping it with her mind. A tiny flaming dragon dashed around the fire, blowing smoke rings at Cullen.

“You’re already too tired to be doing this. You’ve had that shield up all day,” he admonished, waving the smoke out of his face. Grace slapped a hand over his mouth, sitting up straight, the tiny dragon crumbling into embers once more.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Shh. Listen.” He listened carefully, hearing the quiet mutterings of several men a short ways off. Grace stood quietly, picking up her staff. “There are at least three of them. Can you hear the difference in their voices?”

“Grace, get back here!” Cullen hissed, picking up his sword and shield and following her. She moved through the shadows towards a tree, backing up against it.

“Cullen, hush. I’m going to go look. Keep an eye out,” Grace whispered, slipping into the bushes. She disappeared into the darkness, leaving Cullen squinting at the spot that she had just stood in.

“Grace! Maker’s breath,” Cullen sighed. He followed her into the bushes, cursing that he had taken off his armor for the night. She was equally unarmored, and if he remembered correctly, barefoot. Daft, silly woman.

He found her moments later crouched behind a rock, eyeing a clearing where three men sat around a small fire, tossing coin around.

“Just travellers,” she whispered quietly. “Let’s get back to–“ She froze as the point of a sword pressed into her back.

“Well, lookie what we have here, boys,” a gruff voice muttered. “Pretty little thing too. Looks like you and your boyfriend have made quite the little mistake.”

Grace mindblasted the man away, pulling Cullen back towards the camp as the men shouted behind them, the tiny camp rousing. More bandits cornered them as they caught sight of their own fire.

“The chick’s a mage.”

“Look at the tattoo! I don’t think she’s just a mage, boys. And her hand! This here’s the Inquisitor!” the largest one of them sneered. “There’s a price on your head, pretty thing.”

“Grace!” Cullen hissed at her as she circled slowly to his back.

“We’ll be fine. There’s only three of them,” she whispered back. The other bandits surrounded them slowly. “Correction: There’s only ten of them.”

“We’re hopelessly outnumbered.”

“Good thing I’m a mage, huh?” she laughed, snapping a thick barrier around herself and Cullen. The bandits attacked mercilessly, hacking and slashing as they whirled around in a tight circle, taking down men left and right.

“Just like the Golden Fox, right Marc?” Grace muttered. Cullen looked at her strangely, but was interrupted by a bandit’s sword nearly crashing into his head. Grace kicked the man in the leg, sending him crashing to the ground, blasting him away with a fireball.

She was starting to run dry, and her strength waned as she took a hit from an arrow, her head spinning, losing more blood by the second. She reached back into her pouch for an elfroot potion, when her hand closed around the tiny, glowing vial hidden in the lining.

She couldn’t.

She _shouldn’t_.

There was a grunt as a sword cut through her barrier, clashing loudly on Cullen’s shield. The barrier dissolved, and an errant fist sent her down to her knees, reeling in shock. Time slowed to a crawl. Her eyes sought Cullen, who had started to turn towards her, hand outstretched, the point of a bandit’s sword slicing down through the air towards his unguarded midsection.

She _had_ to.

Gathering the last of her magic Grace let loose a blast of energy, toppling the bandits head over heels. Lifting the tiny vial she saw Cullen’s eyes darken with need and anger as she twisted the cap off and drained it before throwing it at the fire, hearing the glass shatter as it hit the flames.

She cast the barrier once again, avoiding his gaze as they dispatched the rest of the bandits. She could feel his eyes boring into her as the buzz of the lyrium coursed through her veins, replenishing resources she had forgotten she had depleted, the smell of peppermint now edged with metal. His visage darkened as he stepped towards her, his eyes narrowing in anger. Grace stepped back and tripped, scuffling backwards towards the tents.

“Cullen, I’m sorry! Cullen?” He continued towards her, sword still unsheathed and dripping with blood. “Cullen? Cullen stop! Cassandra! CASSANDRA!” She screamed, throwing a shield of energy around herself as Cullen’s sword clattered against it, his voice roaring at her over her own.

“You fucking _bitch_! You had some all along didn’t you!” He roared, bringing his sword up again, his hands starting to shake violently. “I knew you were too good to be true, demon!” Grace scrambled away and cast another barrier around herself, her own hands shaking with terror when she felt the immeasurable weight of a spell purge hit her. She screamed as the shield broke and Cullen swung his sword in the air, intent on destroying her. Cassandra bolted out of the tent and tackled him to the ground.

“Commander! What has gotten into you?” She yelled at him. Josephine and Leliana emerged from their own tent in confusion.

“What’s going on?” 

“What’s wrong with the Commander?”  
“Inquisitor are you ok?”

Grace was shaking violently, only managing to eek out “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” before running over to her horse and vaulting on, cutting the tie line with the blade of her staff. Rearing backwards, she sent the Light-Torn Steed galloping off onto the road, the staff clattering to the ground as she ran.

Cassandra wrenched Cullen’s sword out of his hand, screaming at him. “What happened? WHAT HAPPENED, COMMANDER?”

“How long has she been taking it? How long has that _abomination_ been taking it to get to me? The hum that echoes through her veins, tears at my head, pulls at my desires... ALL A VOID RIDDEN LIE!” Cullen spat, his eyes wild, pulling against Cassandra’s grip as he tried to turn to his own horse to go after Grace. Cassandra slapped him hard across the face.

“Control yourself, Cullen!” she roared at him, watching the startled daze drift across his face.

“You _hit_ me.”

“And I will do it again if you do not get yourself under control, Commander. Now, explain to me what happened,” Cassandra growled, her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“There were bandits, and her barrier fell. Then she pulled out a vial of lyrium and-” he froze, his face a mask of horror at the realization. “Oh Maker, what have I done.”

“You’ve made a complete ass out of yourself, that’s what, Curly,” Varric muttered, shouldering Bianca as he emerged from his tent. “I’ll go after her. Knight-Commander Scumbag has done enough for tonight.” Varric wandered over to his horse and quietly galloped after her, leaving the rest of the party in the dust of the camp.

Josephine turned to Cassandra with concern and confusion written plainly on her face. “I don’t understand, I thought the Inquisitor specifically told us only to pack her lyrium when she would be away for months?” Cassandra hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“She did, but she kept an emergency vial just in case something went wrong. Apparently, something did.” She shot an irritated glance over to Cullen. “Tell me _exactly_ what happened. Everything.”

“We were surrounded, and then she muttered something about it being just like the Golden Fox and called me Marc,” Cullen winced, his head starting to ache from both the impact with Cassandra’s hand, and the cravings he was experiencing. “She was having problems keeping the barriers up.”

Cassandra winced visibly at the explanation, and even Leliana flinched.

“Cullen, had she ever told you about what happened when Ostwick fell?” Leliana asked gently.

“Not in it’s entirety, no,” Cullen said, gripping at his head as the headaches started to set in. “I know it’s where Marc died.”

“Ser Garren died, because her barrier fell during the attack on the Circle,” Cassandra explained, lowering her head. “It sounds like, for a moment, she was back in that tower.”

Everyone sat in silence, watching Cullen take the new information in. His hand started shaking violently as he looked at them, stumbling backwards to sit on one of the logs by the fire.

“Oh Maker, what have I _done_?”

“Josie, get yourself, Cullen, and the Dowager into the carriage. We’re leaving. Leliana will ride your horse Cullen.” Cassandra commanded, handing Cullen his pack. She went into Grace’s pack and pulled out the jar of sedative that was always tucked in a pocket. “Use this. It should keep you unconscious for the majority of the trip if you take it consistently. Lady Trevelyan?” She addressed the woman as she emerged from the tent, searching for her daughter. “Lady Trevelyan, I need you to make sure the Commander takes this.”

“Where is Grace?” Serena whispered, wringing her hands. Cassandra heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. Varric has gone in search of her.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Was she hurt? Was she captured?” The dowager’s voice rose in panic.

“She ran away after an incident occurred with the Commander. Rest assured, we are confident that she is most likely on her way back to Skyhold. Unfortunately, her horse is... not a horse, and will make it there before we do.”

When he was escorted into the carriage, Cullen sat there with his head in his hands, his mind replaying the evening over and over. It felt like an out of body experience, watching her apologetic face as she tipped the vial into her mouth, the sorrow and terror that etched her features as he had attacked her. He robotically accepted the glass of sedative that Lady Trevelyan handed him, and drained it, grateful for the blackness that claimed him as he once again heard Grace’s anguished screams echoing through his head. The only difference was that now, they were memories instead of dreams.


End file.
